Chapter Two
"My sweet boy!” Mrs. De Luca, the same housekeeper that has been here since I was a child, calls me the very same endearment from all those years ago. She never did give up on that, even after I grew up. She looks the same as when I last saw her, save for some wrinkles, to be expected with as much time that’s passed. I remember when she first came to us. I was only five years old and an absolute handful. She never let that sway her from becoming my safe space. She was more of a nanny back then. As I grew, her duties shifted away from childcare to caring for the house.
I jump to my feet and stride toward her, my arms snake around her round frame. She’s more than a foot shorter than my towering six foot five. She still smells like cinnamon, brown sugar, and coffee. A soft chuckle escapes as I squeeze her once more.
“Some things never change; you still smell like cinnamon rolls.” I say into her hair before allowing her space. She smiles brightly up at me; her green eyes have the same air of mischief as they did when I was growing up. The pranks we would play on one another used to be the highlight of my days as a kid.
“Oh, that will never change, child. It’s a staple in this house. You should remember that, no matter how long it’s been.” She pinches my side and huffs out her annoyance. “It seems like you and Milo both spend too much time at the gym. I need to put some meat back on our boys' bones.” She winks at my mother who rolls her eyes at the comment.
I shake my head and let out another laugh. Mrs. De Luca excuses herself back into the kitchen allowing the three of us to continue our conversation. As I return to my seat on the couch, my imagination runs wild with the possibilities of how this can go down.
“No matter how you decide to do it,” my mother begins her explanation again. “We have a car where we will stage the body. Once it’s detonated, anyone not in the know will think it was a car bombing.”
My brows shoot up.
“Don’t you think that will cause a fucking war?” Before I can jump to my feet her hand is on my knee keeping me in place.
Milo snorts, shaking his head as he waits for her to continue. My eyes dart between the two of them. I know I had asked him to protect her while I was gone, but he seems more comfortable around her than I’d like.
“ Idiota .” My mother scoffs, throwing her hands in the air like she’s already fed up with my shit. Fuck, I haven’t even been back for an hour. “Don’t you think I would put plans in motion to avoid an all-out war? The Espositos will be putting one of their problem soldiers on the chopping block as a scapegoat.”
My eyes go wide, shock is an understatement of my reaction to this revelation. She didn’t just say that. The Espositos of all people? My heart beats erratically in my chest as I process her words. There’s absolutely no way! I know my face is showing my every thought when Milo speaks up for the first time.
“They know Lucia won’t be back. That part was their idea, actually. We just suggested it to Frederico.” He snorts and drags a hand through his short beard. “The old man doesn’t want her to have the family's money, so that part was easy. And on top of that, her family doesn’t want to be associated with her after what she did to you. Especially now that you are back.” Milo shrugs nonchalantly, as if to say none of what he’s telling me is a big deal.
With so much information thrown at me I spend the next few hours digesting it all in my room. Not much has changed since I left. I toss my bag on the chair in the corner before I collapse on the bed. The knowledge of what I’m going to do in just one day's time has my stomach in my throat. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve killed someone. Fuck, I’ve taken more lives than I care to count which is why I went into law. I wanted to put men like me behind bars; a way to atone for my crimes. Even with my past …transgressions. Yeah, let’s go with transgressions; my wildest dreams couldn’t have prepared me for what I’m about to do.
A soft knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Mrs. De Luca gingerly presses the solid oak door open. A soft smile on her lips as she crosses the room and places a cup of coffee and white saucer with a cinnamon bun on my nightstand without saying a word. She winks at me knowingly before she steps back out of the room.
I can’t help but chuckle, as close as my mother and I are, I’ve always been closer to Mrs. De Luca. She was married to one of Frederico’s enforcers who was killed in a drive-by not long after she started working for us. She never remarried and never had children of her own, but she took me under her wing as if she were a second mom. Once I’ve scooted so that my back rests against the headboard, I take a sip of coffee. God, I love Mud House. The owner could roast a mean bean, but damn. No one can make a cup of coffee like Mrs. De Luca. I cautiously set the cup back on the bedside table and lift the cinnamon bun to my lips.
My mouth begins to water just from the scent. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips in preparation for the heaven that is about to touch my tongue. As soon as I take a bite, even more memories return with a vengeance.